Dream
by faithwood
Summary: Peter is determined to convince Caspian that his dream is a prediction. Drabble-ish. Oneshot. Peter/Caspian.


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**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Chronicles of Narnia_ and I am in no way affiliated with them.  
**Author:** maxfaith (rubylehane and faithwood on LJ just to avoid confusion)  
**Pairing: **Peter/Caspian  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Word Count: **600  
**Status: **Complete  
**Summary: **Peter is determined to convince Caspian that his dream is a prediction. Drabble-ish. Oneshot. Peter/Caspian.

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**Dream**

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"What are you thinking about, my king?" Caspian asked, caressing the soft hair that had spilled over his lap.

Peter's eyes were closed and his expression peaceful, offsetting his dark response. "About how much I don't want to leave. About how much I desire to stay." The words cut into Caspian like a knife, and he couldn't help resenting this reminder of the inevitable. He was much happier while pretending they wouldn't have to part. "And I'm not your king," Peter added as an afterthought.

"You'll always be _my_ king," Caspian said, almost without thinking but still emphasizing carefully. He tore his gaze away from dark lashes resting on flushed cheeks, and looked around, trying to recapture that peace he felt just moments ago.

The day was beautiful, the breeze tender and sky clear, unmarred by the dark clouds, and yet Caspian still felt them pressing threateningly all around them.

They were lying in the middle of a meadow, their clothes rumpled; tossed haphazardly over their still sweaty bodies, after an enjoyable hour spent exploring each other. And explore they did, with tongues and mouths and tentative caresses that easily turned more passionate; their desire consuming them, leaving them breathless and frantic, as their hands travelled across corded muscles and slick skin. They moved together as though this wasn't their first time; as though they had done it a thousand times before.

Caspian could still feel Peter's touch on his skin; the lingering reminder of what happened between them. A barely perceptible tingle that felt like a mark for which Caspian knew would never vanish.

No. He just hoped it wouldn't.

He felt fingers on his jaw, bringing him back from his stupor, and making him look down on his lap, only to notice that Peter's eyes were open. Capturing the caressing hand and kissing the knuckles gently, he stared at Peter, annoyed by the tranquillity in Peter's eyes.

"I had a dream last night," Peter declared as though that was important and incredibly unusual.

"Should we have a celebration?"

Peter just smiled, ignoring Caspian's remark. "I was somewhere different, yet the same." Peter paused, shrugging apologetically, clearly aware that his statement didn't make any sense. "And we were all there. And we were happy. And we were together."

"We?"

Peter nodded, his eyes searching for something in Caspian's expression. "Do you think ..." Peter frowned and Caspian imagined he could actually _see_ Peter thinking and then coming to a decision. "I think that will happen. That one day will be free to do as we wish."

"It was a dream," Caspian reminded, struggling not to be seduced into believing this idle fantasy.

"Maybe," Peter agreed, and then lifted up into a sitting position, one of his hands brushing Caspian's thigh as he lowered it on the ground for support, so he could look at Caspian in the eye. "But I think that's possible. Likely, even," he said brightly.

It was rather amazing how convincing that sounded. Caspian couldn't phantom whether that ridiculous suggestion sounded reasonable because Caspian desperately wanted it to be true or because Peter had an amazing ability to convince him of anything. Or perhaps Peter's hand on his thigh clouded his judgment.

"It was a dream," Caspian repeated, defiantly.

Peter crept closer, pressing their lips together, his tongue trailing along Caspian's bottom lip, before slowly sliding into his mouth. Caspian hummed appreciatively, but Peter paused in his delicious ministrations for a second, only to say firmly, "It's completely true. And it will happen," and then he kissed Caspian properly, his hands edging beneath the silky fabric of Caspian's shirt, touching the tender skin of his stomach.

As he lay back on the grass, Peter tumbling on top of him, Caspian supposed he had no choice but to believe in this dream.

After all, it was all they had.

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**Fin**

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End file.
